


strawberry blond

by udipo (orphan_account)



Series: Dream, & George's dreams [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Pining, but honestly i'm here for it, dog dream, george is a mess lol, it's that stupid trope where dream is a dog and then turns human LOL i'm basic, pls read notes okay thanks love you, so many gross things pop up when i type in dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25082734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/udipo
Summary: George curses, veering violently to the side of the road to avoid whatever animal has idiotically decided to sit itself there. It’s late, it’s raining, and George just wants to get home. He storms out of his car, slamming the door, marching around the front to- oh.A dog- a lab, maybe- was laying in the road, wet and shaking and staring up at George with the biggest eyes he’s ever seen and oh, oh no. He was not taking this dog home.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Dream, & George's dreams [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816621
Comments: 12
Kudos: 279





	strawberry blond

**Author's Note:**

> [strawberry blond by mitski :)](https://youtu.be/g685pAuKW34)
> 
> me: researches if 24 or 12 hour time is used in the uk  
> me again: researches dog breeds to see what type fits Dream best  
> also me: haha dog adoptions go brrrr  
> HI HI HI I have written fics before pls ignore that this is my “only” fic on here, that’s addressed at the end :)  
> you can really tell which parts of this i wrote at 3am during the 4th and which parts at noon on,,, not the fourth :^)  
> anyways, enjoy! this is really lazy writing i swear im better than this, pls stick around!! i will take this down if george and dream decide they are no longer comfy with the shipping. please be respectful.

_George curses, veering violently to the side of the road to avoid whatever animal has idiotically decided to sit itself there._ It’s late, it’s raining, and George just wants to get home. He storms out of his car, slamming the door, marching around the front to- _oh._

A dog- a lab, maybe- was laying in the road, wet and shaking and staring up at George with the biggest eyes he’s ever seen and oh, oh no. He was not taking this dog home.

No.

Absolutely not. 

Never in a million years.

-

Some number of forms and shots later brought him to driving home after a quick visit to a 24/7 pet clinic, dog smiling and drooling at him from the passenger seat. Oh boy.

George has had dogs before, but none this big. Or this much work to take care of. The staff had given him a run down of what food he needs, how often he would need to be walked, and even suggested getting another, as labs are apparently very social animals. If he wasn’t able to get another one soon, walks to a local dog park were recommended.

George’s head was swimming with information and he just wanted to get home. So bad. But the dog- who still needed to be named, George reminded himself- needed food, and he couldn’t deny that outright. So he swerved into a parking lot, mostly empty, a gentle cue that he needed to hurry.

A quick glance to the time aided his suspicions- 20:47- and he rushed out of his car, ignoring the way his heart ached at the dog’s whines. He whispered that he would be quick, which wasn’t a lie, and hurried into the store, the cold biting at his ears.

The staff looked tired, and he apologized profusely, holding up the reference slip the clinic had given him. They had the bag ready for him, clearly not wanting to deal with anyone longer than they had to. He didn’t blame them, and he left the store £25 lighter. Fan-fucking-tastic.

The dog was all tails and kisses when he got back. George groaned. He was gone for maybe 5 minutes. He couldn’t imagine this dog even _surviving_ in the hours George is gone running errands. 

-

He decided what he wanted to name the dog. Yes, okay, the pet clinic had deemed him Clay (he DID need a name for the forms), but it didn’t fit. Didn’t feel right. Now, George knew exactly what to call him. Dream.

There was no meaning. There was no hidden message. No, this dog just _wouldn’t get the fuck off of his bed._ He had bounded to George’s bedroom the second he set foot in his cozy (read: tiny) flat, seemingly not hungry as he ignored George’s attempts to get him to eat. Whatever. Yeah, no, this dog wasn’t just found in the _middle of the fucking road_ , yeah, sure he could skip a meal. It didn’t seem the dog had any trauma, considering how he trusted George with no question. But hell if he was going to let him skip a meal.

George, like an absolute loser, had to feed this dog _on his bed._ The dog wouldn’t move. He stayed there, ignoring all of George’s pleads until he caved in, bringing the food bowl to the foot of the bed where the dog happily lapped it up.

So he named the dog Dream. It seemed fitting enough.

-

Just so we’re clear, George was in no way exaggerating. This dog was stretched out over the entire bed, having not moved since dinner. And now George literally couldn’t get in bed, Dream almost smiling smugly at him. George didn’t know dogs could smirk until tonight.

No amount of begging could get him to move. George even took the time to make a makeshift bed for him, laying down blankets and pillows right by the bed, complete with a water bowl and toy (okay, it was just a sock). But he had tried! He made an effort! 

And this dog still stayed there, tail thumpling lazily at Georges failed attempts to coax him down to the bed. George stood and ruffled his hair, groaning inwardly. He needed to sleep, he really did, and this dog didn’t seem to be moving from his spot. He tried once more, switching techniques.

“Look… you don’t need to move from the bed, but could you at least move to the other side? No need to get down.”

Dream, miraculously, understood, and rolled to his side, scooching across the covers. George sighs, running the hand in his hair down his face as he _finally_ slid into bed. _Good enough. Not like he could understand him anyways._

But oh, no, Dream wasn’t done. The dog rolled back to his stomach, now pressed against George’s side. He certainly wasn’t a lap dog, but George would be lying if he said it didn’t feel nice. Dream was warm, _very warm_ , and softer than any blanket he’d ever owned. Maybe he could even get used to this.

Spoiler: He did not. In fact, he thought that exact opposite when he woke up in the middle of the night, sweating, trying to kick the blankets off of him as sweat dripped down his face, soaking his shirt. So much so that he had to change into a new one, and rinse off his face.

When he got back from the bathroom, Dream was gone. A quick check to the living room confirmed he was still in the house, and George had never been so grateful for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

-

When George woke that morning, he should’ve screamed. He should’ve been shocked. He should’ve had way more of a reaction than he did. But when he padded out to the front to make breakfast and check the news, he had a strange sort of calmness wash over him when he saw a man sitting where his dog should be. He, curiously, had a paper plate taped on his head, fluffy dirty blond hair curling around the quickly drawn smiley. A pillow was- admittedly smartly- placed on his lap as he clicked through the morning news, shrugged posture suggesting he was bored.

So when George asked, “Who the fuck are you?”, albeit rather loudly, you can’t blame him. As tense and ready to bolt as he was, you can’t blame him. Because even if he _were_ calm, it’s not every day that a literal naked man appears in your home and is acting like he lives there. 

He chuckled, turning, and _oh-_ his mouth was visible, makeshift mask placed high on his face. A grin stretched across his face as he wheezed, remote clattering to the coffee table as he hunched over, running a hand through his hair. He pulls the mask to the side, one eye now visible and locked on George.

_“I’m Dream.”_

-

George lurches awake, head rushing as his eyes immediately try to focus in the darkness around him. He’s dazed, ears ringing, and he glances around, hoping to find a clock. He squints at the digital cat clock across the room (“It was only $5, George, how could I _NOT?_ ” Dream had whined, cradling it to his chest.

“$5 too many, Dream! The ears are bad enough, why does it have eyes?” George had shot right back, now intent on getting Dream a new clock that wasn’t _shaped like a cat._ ), rubbing his eyes to better make out the numbers under the freakish eyes boring into his soul.

_11:29_

George stares blankly at the blinking time, not able to process it. Does he add 12? Subtract it? What the fuck is 11:29, he knows it’s not morning yet. Fucking America. He groans, accepting that it’s probably close to 2300 and flops back on the bed, turning to his side. 

_Of course it was a dream, idiot. Dogs don’t just turn into humans._

“Hey…” George hears a whisper from behind him and he twists his head, feeling a hand rub comfortingly at his shoulder, “You okay?”

He comes face to face with a concerned Dream, barely able to see his face by light of the cracked bathroom door. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes wide with worry, teeth worrying his bottom lip.

George smiles, _of course Dream would care about him_ , and shrugs the hand off, waving his hand dismissively. 

“Just a weird dream. Not even a bad one, just weird, y’know?” And, sensing the joke coming, “Not as weird as you, idiot.”

Dream pouts, heaving a disappointed sigh, “Wow, you like a dream more than THE Dream? I’m offended. I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“I’m here for another few _weeks_ , Dream, you can’t just ignore me.”

Dream snickered, flicking George’s cheek. “I know that. Play along.” And with that, Dream rolls over so he’s facing the wall, back turned towards George.

He sleeps easily, flushed and more affected by the flick than he should be.

-

The next morning, George is wandering into the living room...

_(And can he just say, it was after being very rudely woken up by Patches walking over his face, but George swears Dream loves that cat more than him and wouldn’t care in the slightest. In fact, he would probably be disappointed that he missed it.)_

...with an idea.

“Hey, Dream?” George collapses onto the couch, lolling his back over the armrest to stare at him, ignoring how domestic this feels. Dream tilts his head inquisitively, making a _hm_ sound, a piece of bacon already sticking out of his mouth.

“Have you ever thought about a dog plug-in?”

**Author's Note:**

> [da clock](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51zx-DUSHnL._AC_SX425_.jpg)   
>  [my tumblr](https://udipo.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ik "dog plug-in" was vague but it had to be short. saying "hey dream have you ever thought of a plug-in that turns you into my dog" doesn't feel right yknow? it needed to be concise.
> 
> ANYWAYS i rlly regret not writing sooner, i felt like it was too late now but whatever. anyways yeah i've been here since there were less than 15 fics, good times. i love how much we've grown, though. you've probably seen some of my comments from my reading acc around haha.
> 
> and finally, for people who have been with me for a while or people who are simply curious: you may have noticed all my works are gone. I have moved on, and voltron is in the past. 2 of the works have been orphaned, the rest deleted. thank you so so so much for the support, I got a lot more love than I expected on my past works and I will always appreciate it. A new era is here. If you are interested in dream & george (including sap, bbh, etc too ofc), danganronpa, and possibly she-ra i urge you to stay as those will be my main focuses! i love you <3


End file.
